


And It's All That I Need

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Spin off from You're The Blood. Because Pete was left hanging.





	And It's All That I Need

**Author's Note:**

> I had planned on posting this after I finished the other story but I actually felt like writing this.

It's all for you  
You've got me where you want  
It's all for you, oh  
Just stop breaking my heart  
_You're the blood, I'm the seed_  
_And it's all that I need_  
You've got me where you want

All For You - Our Lady Peace

 

Michael first noticed something was off when he visited during spring break. Pete had avoided him, only spending time with him when the others were around. And even then he was quieter, more depressed. Like, yeah, depressed is their normal state of being, they're goths, but this was a different sort of depressed. Less angry, more distant and hollow. In the past, when Henrietta was busy, they would spend any free time together at Michael's house or the diner. It had been a comfortable relationship, just the two of them smoking and discussing poetry or current events. Henrietta was gone for three days during spring break, dragged to some family Easter event across county lines, and Pete had not attempted to contact Michael once in that gap. This was despite his former practice of following him around wherever he went, at his heels like a lost puppy.

By the time summer had rolled around it had become painfully clear that Pete was no longer talking to him. Not in any way that could be interpreted as meaningful, at least. He'd always respond to Michael's texts, usually with one or two word responses. He still commented on some of his social media accounts, usually in regards to his poetry. But he had not even mentioned that he had been accepted on a scholarship to Michael's art school. Something he knew Pete had been so determined to achieve last year when Michael had been finishing up his senior year at South Park High. They had talked about it extensively, all three of them would apply to the same school and share an apartment once Pete and Henrietta were sophomores, but nobody had really believed it would happen. Not because any of them had doubts about their talents but simply because it was a private school and Pete just did not come from the best family. There was no college fund send aside for him as a baby.

To be truthful, Michael was stunned by the knowledge that Pete had received a free ride. Since when was his art that good? He hadn't offered to show Michael the pages he had submitted and Michael hadn't asked, despite dying to know.

“I don't get it,” he had complained to Henrietta, “We used to be so close.”

“He's still fragile,” she explained, lying beside him on her bed, breasts fully exposed. There were teeth marks around her left nipple where Michael had been too rough with her, too angry and upset when she had dragged him between her sheets an hour ago. She had said it would make him feel better and he suppose it had but at her expense. “His heart still needs to heal is all. He's broken but he'll fix himself.”

That was when the truth had come out. Nobody had mentioned it to Michael because they had all assumed he knew. Pete had had a boyfriend. Somet blond, skinny, conformist kid, from the sound of it. Henrietta insisted the kid was pretty cool.

“He had a pretty hardcore backstory,” she said, taking a drag from her cigarette holder. “You should ask Pete about it. He looked at that kid like he hung the fucking moon. It was sickening, but sweet. I don't really know what happened between them. One day he just showed up without him in a tow, sporting a black eye in his place.”

When he had brought it up to him, Pete had averted his eyes and admitted that yes, it was true. He had been dating some blond guy for awhile. But no, the guy had not been abusive. He talked with his head down, stopping frequently to take long drags from his cigarette.

“It's embarrassing,” he said after sharing with Michael the whole story. “The entire thing. I thought you would laugh at me.”

“You got your dick sucked in a public restroom,” Michael pointed out, “And got into a fist fight with some jock conformist. That's pretty hardcore.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Pete smirked. Michael loved his smirk, there was just something a bit evil about it. Then his face darkened again. “Love is for conformists.”

“God, Pete,” Michael rolled his eyes. Is that how he had been before he went away for school? “Cut the bullshit for once. It's okay to admit you're capable of loving someone. I love Henrietta. I love you.”

“That's different,” Pete scoffed, flipping his hair off his face. “That's real love. Not romantic fairy-tale bullshit.”

Michael didn't see how the two differed but he let it slide for that day. It was true that he and Henrietta had agreed monogamy wasn't for them, but Pete was a different creature. He had cared for that boy and now Pete was broken, Henrietta was right about that. That blond kid had wrung the smaller goth out, pulling him thin like a piece of taffy. Or like a chewed up piece of gum, spit out on the ground for somebody else to step in.

The topic was dropped for a couple more weeks. Until one evening when they stop at Starbucks to pick up drinks. Pete orders first, he always orders some complicated skinny soy caramel shit, and Michael is ordering just two plain black coffees for himself and Henrietta. Pete's hand appears on him arm, gripping so quickly and so tightly, that Michael stumbles over his words mid-sentence. Thank God his order is easy. He picks up where he left off and hands the barista the card.

“What's wrong?” he asks, touching Pete's shoulder.

“He's here,” Pete mutteres below his breath. “Stop! Don't turn around!”

“Who?” Michael asks, stopping in his tracks.

“Him!”

Michael leads Pete over to the drink counter and turns casually, leaning against the wall as they wait for Pete's macchiato-difficultio. He lets his eyes flicker over the crowd before them, not letting his gaze linger too long on any one person. He doesn't see anybody he recognizes. Who is “him?”

Then his gaze stops on two boys about their own age. They're sitting together on one of the couches, pressed much too close to be friends alone. The smaller one, a blond, smiles and presses a quick kiss to the other boy's cheek. He's skinny with wild looking hair.

“That's him?” he asks, keeping his voice low so only Pete beside him can hear him. “The blond on the couch?”

“Yeah,” Pete says, his voice sounds tight with emotion.

Michael is mildly surprised. He had been imagining a tall, lanky blond, maybe a bit punkish in his appearance, with dark, dangerous eyes. This blond is fey-like, a slip of a thing that probably wouldn't even come to Michael's collarbone standing up. He doesn't know the details of their sex life, besides the fact the blond likes giving bathroom head, but everything feels off.

“He's cute,” he says, not-untruthfully. The blond is cute. Decidedly attractive in a way different than Pete was attractive but Michael definitely wouldn't be adverse to getting head from him in a bathroom.

They call Pete's order and he grabs it quickly, hurrying to the door. He doesn't even glance at the two on the couch. But Michael watches them as he follows Pete out the door, taking his time so the distance between them lengthens, becoming wider and wider. The two boys have noticed them, the blond's lips are slightly parted, gaze squarely on Pete's retreating form. The other boy glares at Michael for some reason. It feels like a challenge.

Pete's a mess by the time they arrive at Henrietta's house. Trembling, his eyes glossy, trying to keep it in but failing. It makes Michael sad that Pete feels he needs to hide himself in front of him.

“Pete, baby, what's wrong?”

She ignores the coffee Michael tries to hand her, reaching for the shorter boy instead. Pete allows himself to be gathered into her arms, his head pressed against her chest. Michael knows from experience how good it feels to be held like that by her. She never outgrew her heaviness, just like Pete has never outgrown his smallness, and she's like a pillow, all curves with her pendulous breasts and wide hips. She's bottom heavy so the majority of her weight is in her ass and thighs, besides her breasts of course, but there's still a decent amount of pudge on her stomach. Overall, she makes a very good cuddle-partner.

“We saw his ex,” Michael explains. He sets Henrietta's coffee on the bedside stand and joins in the embrace. He wants to make Pete feel better too. He's tiny between them. Henrietta has about four inches on Pete, Michael probably has nearly a foot. He's all but engulfed between their larger bodies.

“Oh, baby,” she sighs. “Do I need to go teach that boy a lesson?”

“No,” Pete mumbles into her chest. “Just stay here for a minute.”

Michael isn't sure who leads them to the bed. It could have been any of them. But there's a sudden, unanimous agreement that cuddling would be better on the bed and they part just long enough to arrange themselves. Michael spoons Pete from behind, pressing his body flush against the other boy's. He's thankful for how tall and lanky he grew up to be because his right arm is long enough to totally cover Pete and reach halfway around Henrietta's hip. Henrietta's arm rests against his own shoulder. Their foreheads touch as they curl around Pete between them. He watches Henrietta's face, her eyes are downcast, watching the other boy.

It's nice. This isn't the first time they've all laid together on this bed but they've never held each other like this, not this intimately. Pete has used Michael's stomach as a pillow and Michael has thrown his arm over Pete's chest as he slept with his head tucker into Pete's armpit, but those occasions were different. This is true closeness. Michael turns his eyes towards the boy between them. A couple pieces of red hair move back and forth with each breath Henrietta takes and exhales.

They lay like that for a long time. Michael dozes off at one point, startling awake what might've been seconds or hours later. Henrietta's eyes are closed but her eyelids flutter when Michael moves his hand up over her hip. He reaches further, crushing Pete between them, and squeezes her ass.

“Michael,” Pete complains. “You're hurting me.”

“Sorry.” He pulls back, letting his arm fall off of Henrietta completely. His hand hangs limp against Pete's leg.

“It's okay,” Pete insists, starting to push back against Henrietta. Her eyes open. They're dark, beautifully accentuated with her heavy eyeliner. “I can leave.”

“Where are you going?” Henrietta tightens her own grab on Pete's waist. “We're trying to cuddle here.”

“I know I'm kind of being a third wheel here,” Pete manages to wiggle one of his arms out from between himself and Henrietta's body to fix his hair, tucking some strands behind his ear. “It's getting late anyway.”

“We're goths,” Michael drawls. “That's when we're supposed to be doing shit.”

“I'm okay,” Pete insists. “I overreacted but I'm okay. You guys don't need to coddle me.”

“You don't get it,” Henrietta says, “We don't want you to leave, okay?”

“We're sick of you pushing us away,” Michael adds, keeping Pete in place with the arm that had once been looped loosely around him. “You keep pulling away. You won't even let me see the art you submitted in your portfolio. We don't want you to push us away anymore.”

“I swear I'm not doing that,” Pete says. “I'll show you my portfolio tomorrow. I just figured you two would like some alone time. As in just the two of you. To do stuff.”

Henrietta laughs and it's surprisingly happy sounding for her.

“Pete, you are such a conformist.”

“What?” he asks, his voice thick with annoyance. “No I'm not! It's called being considerate! Jeez!”

“If I wanted to fuck Michael right now I wouldn't stop just because you're between us,” she says, her voice still filled with humor. “You're the one who stopped us.”

“Well sorry if I don't want to sit here and watch you two make out,” he spits out. Michael thinks of an angry kitten. All piss and vinegar but not much more than fluff and bones.

Michael feels bad for Pete. He can imagine how that would feel, fresh from a breakup, to see others being affectionate or sexual right in front of your single ass. Of course Pete feels bitter about the entire situation.

“Well, you don't have to just sit there and watch,” she challenges. “Nobody said you couldn't join in.”

Michael can feel his heart beating in his throat, it's so loud it makes his ears thrum. They aren't exclusive with each other, not by a long shot, but this wasn't something they had ever discussed. But why hadn't they? It had been obvious for a very long time that Pete had some schoolboy crush on Michael, and he had made out with Henrietta a few times when they were all younger. Michael isn't sure exactly but he doesn't think Pete is entirely gay. Maybe not as evenly split on the bisexuality scale as Michael but he had never shown a total disinterest in the female sex either.

He watches them kiss. Henrietta initiates it, reaching for Pete's head and holding him still as she kisses him slowly and deeply. Michael feels a pang of jealously. Not because somebody is kissing his sometimes-girlfriend, but because she is kissing Pete and he isn't. He wants to be part of this as well. He scoots lower on the bed so he can reach Pete's neck and kisses that spot where the spine and the neck attaches. Then he kisses the spot below his ear and what he can reach of his jaw.

He's close enough to hear the wetness of the two parting. Henrietta leans over and he meets her halfway. She tastes like smoke as she always does but there's a hint of caramel and menthol. He's tasting Pete's spit in her mouth.

Michael pulls away and shifts his body back just enough to create room for Pete to flip onto his back. He tugs him there, pushing at his shoulder, encouraging him to go flat between them. He does, but he looks frightened lying there like that, the larger figures looming over him on each side. Michael leans down to kiss him this time. Pete sighs into his mouth.

“I wanna see you fuck him,” Henrietta's voice comes from above them. “Pete, did that twink ever stick his dick in you?”

Michael pulls back so the other boy can speak. He shakes his head.

“No, I always topped.”

“Good,” she drawls. “I want the privilege of taking your anal virginity.”

“You?”  
“She has a strap on,” Michael explains, his face feeling uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. Obviously if he knows about it then he's seen it. It isn't something they've done frequently, only a handful of times at most, but he can't deny he doesn't enjoy it either.

“But Michael-” Pete begins.

“He'll have his turn,” she assures. “It's a small dildo, it'll help you get ready for Michael. He's much, much larger.”

Michael grins. He is larger but still, only about seven and a half inches, not unreasonable for his height. Still, as a kid he had been decidedly lacking in that department and it had given self-esteem issues. He had Longbottomed during puberty, at least below the belt, and what a perfect term to use for it.

Michael kisses Pete again as Henrietta slips out of bed and rummages through her dresser. The boy is shaking beneath him. Michael slips his leg over him and straddles him, holding him still with his weight. Pete is a surprisingly good kisser. He wonders if the blond taught him how to do it. It's been a few years since Michael last kissed him but he doesn't remember him having any talent towards it.

Sitting back, Michael undoes his own belt and fishes out his cock. He's not hard, barely just starting to sport the beginnings of an erection, but Pete looks entranced anyway. Michael watches his face as he slowly jacks himself, bringing himself to full hardness. Is this what Henrietta meant about him looking at that boy like he'd hung the moon? Because now Pete looks like Michael just offered to take him there.

“You want this?” Michael asks.

Pete nods.

“In your mouth?”

He nods again. Michael stands up on his knees and moves up so he's brushing against Pete's chest. He nudges his cockhead against the boy's lips, then rubs it up over his nose and cheek. The boy closes his eye to avoid being blinded by it. His lock looks good against Pete's face, angry red flesh and bulging veins against white, smooth skin.

Henrietta's back. She joins Michael on top of Pete, he feels her head nudge against his back. He hears the sound of another belt being unbuckled. Pete moves beneath him as he lifts her hips so she can pull off his jeans. She struggles with them, they're so fucking tight on the boy. Michael brings his dick back to Pete's lips and pushes just a bit forward, parting the boy's lips. Pete licks at the head like he's just been given a lollipop. Michael pushes forward more and watches Pete's hand comes up to curl around the base of his cock, holding him still as he takes him in his mouth.

“Pete,” Henrietta coos. “Your panties are adorable. Did you steal them from a sixth grade?”

Michael watches Pete roll his eyes but his mouth is full now. Not completely, but enough to make talking difficult. Michael touches Pete's head, scraping nails along the boy's scalp, and he moans around the first half of his cock. There's a wet noise from behind him, Michael recognizes it as the sound of a bottle of lubricant being opened. He feels her shift behind him. Pete's hand moves down, squeezing gently at Michael's balls, and he takes another inch of him into his mouth. The angle is counter-productive to swallowing though. If he could get him up on his knees...

Henrietta voices the same though.

“This isn't going to work,” she declares, “I can't push his legs up with you there. Get off him. Pete, get up on your hands and knees, I'll peg you doggy style.”

Something about that line causes Pete to moan again around Michael's cock. He takes the chance to finish undresses while Pete adjusts himself, he's still wearing his shirt and socks but nothing else. Henrietta is totally naked except for the harness biting into her skin, the small, black dildo sticking out obscenely between her white thighs. Michael removes everything and joins Pete back at the head of the bed. They align well like this, Michael just a little taller on his knees so that Pete has to tilt his head back just a bit to take him back in his mouth. It's a good angle for sliding down his throat. He curls around the boy, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back. He feels warm.

This is better. He can watch Henrietta now. She's careful with him, using just one finger, the other hand pressing down on the small of Pete's back. He's so thin-waisted that her spreadout fingers almost reach totally across the expanse of pale skin from one side to the other. She kisses his hips and back and thighs, anywhere she can reach, as she slowly fucks him with just one finger. The kisses are slow and leave small imprints of black lipstick and saliva wherever she lingers.

Michael grabs a handful of Pete's hair and presses forward, giving Pete time to protest if he wishes, but he doesn't. He fells him swallow, taking him entirely, and his pubic bone presses against Pete's nose as his dick slides down his throat. He feels him gag, the throat muscles constricting around his cockhead. He pulls back and saliva drips down Pete's chin. Holding himself up on one hand, Pete's other hand goes around Michael, grabbing him by the ass and pulling him forward again. He swallows once more. Michael starts thrusting shallowly into his mouth, feeling the flutter of Pete's throat around his dick as he tries to fight his gag reflex. It feels amazing.

Henrietta has added another finger now. Michael watches, looming over Pete's body to see his entrance. He's taking her like a champ, the redness of his asshole visible for less than a second every time she pulls out. Then she pushes back in and he clenches in a way that Michael knows is welcoming the intrusive digits. God, what a waste it would be to be dating this boy and not stick your dick in that ass. Pete has an ass that's just made to be fucked. He's moaning repeatedly around Michael's cock now, the vibrations running through him pleasantly.

Then Henrietta is pulling her fingers out and adding lube to the dildo. She only used two fingers but the dildo isn't that big, it was probably enough. She moves up closer to Pete, lining up the dark plastic, and Michael watches enraptured as she pushes it inside of the other boy. Neither of the boys notice they have both stilled. Then Pete is pushing him away from him, his eyes tight with pain. He clenches his eyes shut and Michael runs his finger through his hair soothingly.

“We're all been fucked up the ass before, Pete,” he drawls, “It's okay to say if it hurts too much.”

“It hurts,” Pete gets out, “But not too much. Just give me a minute.”

“Just let me know, baby,” Henrietta adds, “If it hurts too much I'll pull out.”

He doesn't ask her to pull out. He breathes heavily, his skin gone all to goosepimples, and clutches at Michael's hip. He presses close to him, allowing Pete to bury his face into his crotch. His eyelashes are hidden among Michael's pubes, his nose presses against the base of Michael's cock. His breath feels great against his hard dick and he feels himself twitching. He's thankful he isn't going soft from the loss of friction.

Finally, Pete opens his eyes and takes Michael back into his mouth, though stopping him from slipping down his throat once more. Henrietta takes this as an indicator to continue and she begins to push deeper into the smaller boy. He stills for a second around Michael's cock then increases his suction. Michael lets him take charge this time, setting the pace.

Within a couple thrusts, Henrietta is moaning as well now. She never comes from pegging but he knows from experience that the dildo she's fucking Pete with is two sided. Her movement isn't enough to fully stimulate her and she isn't getting nearly enough friction against her clit for her to cum, but it's enjoyable to her either way. She fucks him with smooth, calculated strokes, more in control than any man could be in this situation. Michael watches her breasts sway, considers reaching for them. He's been infatuated with her tits since they first made an appearance in fourth grade. But the angle is all wrong. Pete's sounds of pleasure are almost continuous now, muffled around Michael's dick in his mouth.

Poor Pete. His dick must feel so neglected, hanging untouched beneath him.

“Baby, you have an amazing ass,” Henrietta breathes out, “I wish I had a real cock so I could feel it squeezing around me. You're going to love it, Michael.”

“He has a pretty great mouth,” he responds, “You'll love it, too.”

Pete pushes Michael back suddenly and cries out. “Stop!”

Henrietta comes to a sudden halt, her face concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Almost came,” he admits, his voice his high. “I don't want to cum yet.”

Henrietta pulls out with a wet noise. The dildo shines with lube. Michael watches his own cock emerge just as wet from from Pete's lips.

“Time to switch?”

“Yeah,” Henrietta agrees. She hands him a condom as they pass by each other. Michael takes his time kneeling behind Pete, pulling the condom over his aching cock. If Pete is over-stimulated even a minute break will help keep him from going over the brink.

Henrietta takes no consideration to doing such a thing. She drops the harness on the floor to expose her pussy, shaved except for a landing strip, and lays in front of Pete, spreading her legs. Michael laughs at how dumbfounded he looks.

“You've never gone down on a chick, have you?” he asks as he's lubing up his hard-on.

Pete shakes his head.

“It's not that hard,” Henrietta insists, “Don't listen to what the conformist media tells you. Here, give me your hand.”

Michael turns his attention to Pete's hole. He's still gaping from the dildo and accepts Michael easily. Henrietta did a great job of opening him up. And yes, he feels like a virgin around Michael's cock. Michael leans over him, pressing his head between Pete's shoulder blades, resisting his own need to cum now. This is so much better than his mouth. He listens to the wet sound of Pete fingering Henrietta, her breathy little gasps in response to the action. Pete is asking if he's doing it right so his mouth isn't occupied. Yet.

“I'm not going to last long,” he confesses.

“Do it,” Pete says, “Fuck me. I want to feel it, really feel it.”

“Alright,” he agrees. And he doesn't last long. He wants to fuck Pete for hours. He wants to fuck him until his legs are weak and he can't support himself. He wants to fuck him into the mattress while Henrietta rides his face. Next time. Maybe in just a few hours, if the other two are up for it.

He holds Pete around the waist and pulls him closer, driving deeper and deeper into him, so deep he'd be slamming against his cervix if he'd been fucking Henrietta's pussy instead. He doesn't have to be careful about that.

He cums about as hard as he's ever cum in his life, except maybe the time he and Henrietta lost their virginity to each other in eighth grade. And that had been overall embaraasingly quickly.

He collapses next to them, breathing heavily, too drained to even remove the condom. When he looks over he can't see Pete's face, it's hidden by Henrietta's wide thighs. But when she grabs him by the hair and yanks his head back his face is wet. Michael can't resist leaning over to kiss him. He tastes like pussy and leaves juices on his lips.

Henrietta rides him to finish. He's not as large as Michael in an manner and she looks like an Amazon on top of him. Why Michael finds that hot as fuck, who knows? But she knows how to work a dick and uses it as she likes, pushing down against him and grinding to press against where she wants him. 

Michael, still exhausted, tells Pete what to do. How to touch her, how to rub her clit, but she grows annoyed with his fumbling and grabs his hands, moving them to her breasts. He seems as confused what to do with them as he had her breasts but more excited by the prospect. He squeezes them like a child with a new toy and eventually arches up to suck on them. She puts her arms around him, helping him keep balance. 

Pete cums next, predictably, groaning out his pleasure loudly. Henrietta rubs her clit more quickly, riding him harder and quicker, trying to finish before he softens and slips out. Her orgasm is signaled by a soft gasp and a closing of her eyes. If he didn't know her better, Michael might've just thought Pete had hit a particularly good spot. But he knows how it looks when she cums.

Nobody speaks. What is there to say? Pete just lost his anal and vaginal virginity. Michael wishes he could say Pete was his first male lover but he isn't. But it had never been like this. This was more powerful than words.

Henrietta is the first to reach for a cigarette. When she moves the smell of used pussy wafts over them. 

Inexplicably, Michael begins to laugh. Then Henrietta joins in. Pete just lies between them, confounded.

"We should've done that years ago," Michael says.

"Totally," Henrietta agrees, handing a cigarette to him over Pete's damp body. The butt his damp.

"It was...fun," Pete agrees, uncertainty. "Thanks. I enjoyed it."

"Did we just invite you to a garden party?" Henrietta snorts. "Next time I'm using a bigger dildo."

"I wanna see you fuck his face," Michael adds. 

"There's gonna be a next time?" Pete asks, surprised.

"Baby, you belong to us now," Henrietta tells him. "No more conformist assholes for you. We've always taken care of you, haven't we?"

"Fuck the conformists," Michael adds. And he's about as content as he can be. Maybe monogamy isn't his thing, but polygamy sounds pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this sucks. I will probably just delete it soon.


End file.
